Utopian Sky
by Everwood89
Summary: Hannah comforts Bright late one night. WIP with Brannah. Chapter 3 now up! Enjoy!
1. Default Chapter

**All rights and credit go to Berlanti, blah, blah, blah...**

**Chapter One**

"The last time I remember getting a haircut was a few days before my mom told us…" Bright said as he sat down on a stool in front of his bathroom mirror. It was still damp from the shower he had taken just a earlier before he started pacing around his room. Hannah nodded, slightly to herself, as she began to access Bright's head full of unruly curls.

"It's okay, it's really not as bad as you think," Hannah said as she began to pick up clumps of his hair, carefully and precisely snipping the tips off the disobedient ends. They sat in silence for a little bit longer, the steady snipping of the scissors in Hannah's hand the only noise in the room.

Bright's bathroom was big and spotless, just as his room and the rest of the Abbott house. The home had rarely been used ever since Rose started her chemotherapy. She'd end up spending days and sometimes weeks at a time in the hospital, so that numerous treatments and test could be done and taken. Harold was at her side 24/7, as were Irv and Edna; Bright and Amy were there while not in school. When the Abbots was home, the Harpers were most likely near by, ready to spring into action. The activity centered around the master bedroom, where Harold had set up an official triage for Rose. If one was making a meal for Rose, somebody else was cleaning up the house, another would be sitting with her, while the others would be usually catching up on sleep. Everybody did their part to make life as normal as possible, even though it was far from that.

More than once a day Hannah would stop by and help out. She had almost officially moved in, helping out here and there by running errands or making meals. When she came, she let herself in through the side of the house, hanging her coat on the hook by the door. It wasn't a unusual sight to see her at the kitchen counter chopping up vegetables or straightening out the couch pillows. So this time, when Bright asked her to cut his hair, even though it was late for her to be out, her presence wasn't awkward.

"You know, I used to do this for my dad before he got really sick. My mom would get him into a chair with a towel around his neck, and I'd carefully trim at his hair. He'd watch me with this weird, transfixed stare, which would have normally freaked me out, but it was the only thing he could do, so I was okay with it…" Hannah rambled on. She kept a steady hand as she automatically picked up another locket of hair and snipped away, trying not to blush as she noticed that

"My mom was my personal haircutter until I got into middle school. I had to fire her after a while though when I discovered that it wasn't cool to let your mom cut your hair - you had to go to the barber shop on Main Street and shovel out the five dollars every week, before church Sunday, if you wanted to be cool." Bright said.

Oddly enough, just after Hannah finished evening out the last bits of his hair, beads of moisture formed at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't cried when he was told of his mother's diagnosis. He wanted to stay strong for Amy, and she did the same for him. But now, before Hannah, with clumps of his hair on the floor, he felt saddened to be talking about it in the open. It meant that his mother's illness was real, and couldn't be pushed aside and gotten over like the flu or a cold.

"It's okay," Hannah said, sound apologetic, and kissing the top of Bright's now semi-dry hair.

"Thanks," Bright said, still attempting to hide the fact that he was crying silently.

"So, I guess I'll be going now, I'll come back later on…" Hannah said, suddenly shy, standing in the bathroom doorway. The funny little feeling came back to her, the same one she had when she first met Bright. The one that she got whenever she was around him.

"Can you stay?" Bright said suddenly, looking up with tear brimmed eyes. In Hannah's mind, something subconsciously flashed 'Warning, member of the opposite sex, what do I do? What do I do!' but she blocked it out. Bright's presence was more normal now, and she didn't feel like running every time his arm brushed against hers.

With a silent reply, Hannah accepted the fact that Bright needed her as oddly as it seemed.

**Hopefully you liked it. It's my first update in a looong time. So yeah. More to come as soon as I type it up from my notebook. Please read and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Bright's alarm clock suddenly sprang to life at noon, he and Hannah both simultaneously shot up, a mass of sheets and arms in the air.

Hannah groped around for her glasses, which had been conveniently folded together neatly and on top of the nightstand. When Bright noticed what she was doing, he handed them to her. As everything became clear again, Hannah started blushing and almost immediately jumped out of the bed, grabbing her shoes in one deft movement.

"Uh, yeah, okay, bye." Bright managed to sputter out as Hannah shut his bedroom door behind herself.

"Oh, Hannah, I didn't hear you come in earlier. Good afternoon." Harold said as Hannah cut through the kitchen. He was pouring himself what was most likely his tenth cup of coffee. He had a noticeable amount of weight, Hannah noticed, and he looked considerably older. His eyes were a little baggy and his hair a little greyer, but he still covered it up with his odd quirks and antics.

"Yeah, I, uh, came in earlier, nobody was in at home and I was a little lonely," she rambled on, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Oh, I see. You can go upstairs and see if Amy is awake by -" Harold started, only to be interrupted.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I gotta get home, Nina is probably wondering where I am...bye Dr. Abbott!" Hannah said, rushing out of the side door, trying to avoid any more interaction with the Abbott men.

"What is up with you?" Bright asked, almost angrily, as he practically stormed into Hannah's room, unannounced. His words were perfectly annunciated, sharp.

It, too, was like the Abbot house…clean, spotless. Everything has a place to go. It was the only constant in her life. No matter what relatives she was residing with at the time, she promised herself that everything she carried along with her would have a certain, specific place.

"Nothing…" Hannah eventually whispered, putting clothes in a messenger bag.

"Well then why won't you talk to me? It's been three days now. I didn't know what happened" Bright began, more softly now. His voice had immediately toned down, and he too, was talking in a whisper-like voice. He began to speak once more, but stopped suddenly. By the way that Hannah wouldn't look him in the face, he knew what happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Hannah hates summer. She hates the sun, she hates her weird non-tan lines, and she hates how happy and tan everyone looks. She hates that she had to leave Everwood at the worst possible time because her mother couldn't manage on her own. Hannah packed her own bags in a hurry, just after leaving Bright. The funny little feeling from kissing him was gone. She was angry now. _'You left me on my own for about five years - I took care of myself and while you were at the hospital with Dad and when you were having your nervous breakdowns and couldn't stand to look at me for weeks at a time because **I **reminded you of him. **I** could manage on my own.' _she thought aloud, a tear sliding down her cheek.

She prefers to spend her summers in her room, reading in the air conditioning with her curtains drawn. Or Everwood. Preferably both, with Bright. When evening came and the sun stopped being so sunny she would go for a walk.

Sometimes she sat with her father, in his unusually stuffy room, his hands clinched into fists and jaw set. He liked it like that, his room. The curtains open, the sun leaking through. Sometimes he'd let Hannah pull up the windows to let some fresh air in. But with the doctors being around lately, she resorted to waiting outside of his room, receiving uncomfortable glances from foreign doctors. Sudden, sick tensions surround everything that walks into that room. She hasn't asked, she's given them all their space, but she's pretty sure that it's still her fault.

Lately, she's been walking through the park, when the sun is out, watching mothers collecting grimy children and nodding to the old lady who always sat on the third bench, throwing bread at nonexistent birds. She sometimes wishes that she was a grimy child, having a normal childhood. But mostly, she would just walk in general, feeling the heat from the sidewalk swirling around her ankles as the air brushing her face started to cool off with the sinking sun. And even that made her think of Everwood.

That was the majority of her summer, the benefits of free time and lazy days without any of the hassle of overly happy people and oppressive heat. It was her routine, and on some level, Hannah liked routine. Which was why she couldn't figure out why the hell she was sitting in the Abbot's backyard, baking in the midday sun and letting Bright drive her ever closer to the brink of insanity.

Stupid, happy Bright. Stupid, happy Bright who was pretending that them not seeing each other for a good two months didn't happen at all, and is smiling and tan, and getting progressively tanner, stretched on a hammock, her lying beside him. When he turns onto his stomach, he let's out a little sigh.

"I love you," Bright says

Hannah has missed Bright. She's missed all their weird conversations over sometimes the most random things, sitting next to him at the Abbot dinner table, the funny feeling she gets from being around him. But she can't say it.

"I know you do." Hannah replies, disappointed that she can't say exactly the same back.

_**All rights go to the producers of Everwood, blah, blah, blah. I'm so not trying to get sued because I've forgotten to mention that. **_

_**It's officially my summer so you'll be getting more chapters more often. Hopefully you like it. Another update is soon to come! - Carla**_


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